Life Can Be Deceiving
by smallvillefics
Summary: AU fic. Chloe is working at the Daily Planet, but neither she nor anybody in her circle -- i.e. Lois & Clark-- have ever met Oliver Queen. But sometimes, when you're trying to get to know another person, life can be deceiving...
1. Chapter 1

**Life Can Be Deceiving**

Chapter One

Chloe slid the dangly silver earring through her lobe as the finishing touch. Appraising herself in the mirror she made a crazy face and sighed. She hated blind dates. It was unfortunate that she was referred to as the workaholic single girl when discussed at the water cooler. The looks of pity and sympathy she'd been getting recently were just too much to bear. She was be perfectly fine not having a date every weekend. It didn't mean she didn't want love. It meant finding it was not her top priority. She had a career to pursue. She wasn't resting until she had her name, in brass, on a door a few floors up. She was young, for pete's sake! Being treated like an old maid at the ripe of old of twenty three is enough to make any sane woman crazy.

But if love found her... well, let's just say she wasn't completely opposed to happiness.

Which is exactly how she'd been roped into this in the first place. Her well intentioned colleagues were bound and determined to find her a man. After finding her at her desk late last Friday evening they pulled out all the stops.

**Flashback**

She heard the laughter cascading down the halls, growing nearer and nearer to her position. She turned off the desk lamp and ducked her head, hoping the visitors would pass by the entrance and she'd go unnoticed.

The tall redhead with crazy curled hair was teasingly berating her friend as they stepped into the bullpen. "I can't believe you left it here! I specifically told you not to forget it, and what do you do... Chloe?" Steph's boisterous voice stopped short.

She raised her head in feigned surprise. "Oh, hey guys. What brings you here this time of night?"

"Gwen forgot her house keys. I tell her every time we go out, 'put your car keys and house keys together', but no... It's two o'clock in the morning, why are you here, girlfriend?"

"The news stops for no man, or woman. I'm working that story on the new distribution center just outside the city. They're supposed to start breaking ground in a week."

Both girls gave her blank expressions. "That sounds... fascinating." Gwen played with her weave trying to disguise her disinterest. Why any girl as pretty as Chloe would choose to sit alone in the dark every evening was beyond her.

"There's more," Chloe protested.

"Like...?" Gwen asked, hand on her curvy hip.

"I'm still working on that- but it's there!"

Stephanie pulled up a chair and sat next to Chloe as Gwen leaned on her shoulder. "Look, I'm going to put this as nicely as I can. You're depressed and you don't even know it."

"I'm not depressed," Chloe replied with a laugh. "I'm not! I'm good. I'm dedicated to my goals- which right now happens to be work. And I still enjoy life outside, too. I stop and smell the roses, quite literally. What do you want? You want to hear about the new restaurant that opened down the street from my apartment? Or the plot of the latest movie?"

"Did you go to that movie alone?" Gwen asked pointedly.

"It was a last minute thing. Besides, I'm not going to let being single hold me back."

"And you shouldn't," Steph commended her. "Look, I know it threw you a little when your cousin got promoted before you did." Chloe bristled at the comment, but Steph held up her hand. "But that's not important now. You're one of the best reporters down here and your time is coming. Besides, timing in the newspaper biz is just that... timing. Luck. Chance. Lois had hers and you'll have yours. You just might have to wait a little longer. Meanwhile, working yourself into the ground and ignoring everything else is not going to make that moment come any faster."

"I know exactly what you need!" Gwen exclaimed. Doing a little dance she slid Chloe's chair over and started opening a web browser. Chloe's eyes widened nervously. She had a bad feeling about this.

Before Chloe could figure out what was going on Steph began clapping happily. "That's so perfect! I can't believe we didn't think of it before."

"I'm going to regret this... but what should you have thought of?"

"Six Degrees of Happiness," Gwen proclaimed presenting the homepage. "It's all the rage right now, everyone's on it. You put in your information and phone number to open the account. Then, you sync your phone and it analyzes all your contacts, finding everyone you know who's online. You answer a few interest and personality questions and presto! It finds a match for you, within six degrees of your social network. It's perfect."

"It sounds ridiculous," Chloe scoffed and turned to Stephanie. "I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, but trust me, this is not needed."

Stephanie ignored her, continuing her diatribe. "Okay, so after it finds you a match it sends you both an email. The first person to initiate contacts offers two or three possible meet times. You choose one and outline your terms. Dinner, movie, whatever. Your description will be online – Ms. Blonde Peaches 'n Cream- but there no photos. That's to keep things from getting too shallow."

"Yes, it's the epitome of class," Chloe said dryly.

"You can choose a codename you think describes you or something you love. Again, no names to add to the mystique. After all, you never know when your true love could be the copy boy you don't look twice at."

"So you'd consider dating the copy boy?"

"Hell no," she laughed. "But as I was saying, this ensures no early prejudice. We've both done it. It's great!"

"So you guys are both seeing someone from here?"

"We've seen lots of someones," Gwen giggled, eyes sparkling. "Here," she handed Chloe her cell phone.

"When did you take this?" she asked bewildered.

"Right before I set up your account. You are officially SnarkyReporterGirl. Give it a day or so and you'll get your recommendations."

"I can't wait." Her stony face told them she wasn't quite as pleased about this endeavor as they were, and there was no prospect for change on the horizon.

"See you tomorrow Chloe!"

Departing as quickly as they came the girls left behind one very confused female. How had she let them shanghai her? She took on the grime of the city, delving far beneath its crusty surface to find the scum that tried to stay hidden. She took on Lois Lane, self proclaimed army brat prone to walking through anything in her path. She took on Clark Kent, alien farmboy prone to brooding. Yet somehow, two sorority sisters managed to take her down in one fell swoop.

Maybe she did need to spend more time outside of work, but clearly it needed to be spent sleeping.

Saturday morning...

Coffee firmly in hand (and 2/3 gone) Chloe fought her way through the bustle of the morning. She loved this. Every Saturday morning it was like life began all over. For most people the week was coming to a close, but at the paper things were kicking into high gear. By five PM Saturday employees had either headed for the hills or were scrambling around trying desperately to make their deadline.

She hadn't even made it to her desk yet when she found two ecstatic grins pointed her way.

"You have a match!" Steph sung out.

"And he's tall," Gwen added. "I never get tall guys. Okay, so what's better Wednesday or Thursday?"

"For what?"

"For your date. Are you paying attention?" Gwen shook her head.

Chloe settled in at her desk reaching for inbox. Maybe if she ignored them they'd go away. It worked with the mouse in her apartment...

"Okay, so his mini-me says--"

She cut Steph off. "Mini what??"

"His mini me. You know, his bio. Okay, 6 foot 3- yeah! Blonde, says he's good looking, ambitious, a strong belief in right and wrong... I say sleep with him."

"I haven't met him! Everything on there could be a lie."

"You need to keep an open mind about these things."

"About sleeping with a man I've never met?"

"Fine, so I have a tendency to exaggerate. How do I put this in Chloe speak? Go have a have a free dinner with a man you've never met therefore you have no reason not to like. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You want me to regale you with stories of other blind dates?"

"I want you to talk to somebody just for the sake of talking. No deadlines, no articles, no reason other than initiating human contact. Better yet, think of it as a human interest piece. You get to reconnect with how somebody outside the news world views things and maybe get some new perspective."

Chloe bit her lip. She was beginning to think she had two options. Option A, deny them and deal with their whiny wrath for several weeks; or Option B, go on the date and get it out of the way. If it ended as badly as she presumed, the girls would keep their noses out of her business for a long time to come.

"Fine," she relented.

Gwen triumphantly held up a printout. "Be ready Thursday at seven. I told him you like sushi."

"I don't like sushi."

Gwen shrugged. "Two new experiences in one night. Welcome to a whole new world Sullivan."

"Hang on, did you give him my address?!"

"Including your apartment number."

"How did you--"

"You're too organized for your own good."

**End Flashback**

She sat nervously at her kitchen table, feet tapping and hands twitching. It had been awhile since she'd done this. She hadn't had a date in... eight months? And that had been a one time only deal. As for relationships... well, she'd dated Jimmy for a few short months, but that had quickly fizzled out and they had mutually gone their separate ways.

Not to mention she was kind of hard to impress. After dealing with a super-powered best friend from galaxies far far away and all the arch-villains that went along with that, regular joes just seemed a little... uninformed. It was hard to have a conversation with a guy who believes that everything is just as it appears. She often wondered how so many people could be so naïve. But she couldn't single-handedly change public perception, nor could she endanger Clark's identity.

And just because they were willing to take her words at face value, didn't mean she offered them the same courtesy. She hadn't been around the block, she'd been around the world. People will lie and deceive you. Somehow she had the feeling they wouldn't take the idea of her running background checks on them with a grain of salt.

She wouldn't trade her knowledge of this world for anything, but she had to admit she sometimes missed the innocence she'd once had. Who was she kidding? She'd craved the drama. She'd always sought out a story, sometimes where there wasn't one. She needed to be the person who got the scoop, the person who caught what everyone else missed.

The doorbell rang interrupting her musings. She stared at the doorknob long and hard before making a decision. She would try on this date. She might fail, but she would at least attempt to be sociable. Possibly even charming.

Besides, she thought with dark amusement, who had more lives than she did? Swallowing hard and breathing deep she pulled the door open.

"Hi. You must be HowardOfLocksley."

She received a melt your face off smile in return. "And you must be SnarkyReporterGirl. So, you like sushi?"

"Umm... I'll try anything once. Exploring new territory and all."

"You're in luck, I know a great place."

"So no chance for food poisoning, good to hear."

"No, none whatsoever. Are you ready?"

She grabbed her jacket from the hook. "Lead the way."

* * *

Author's Note: So I started writing this story because of a very specific scene. Then I realized I'd have to set up said scene. Which resulted in this chapter which, I know, unfortunately offered almost interaction. :( Let me assure you that the next chapter or two are planned with full Chlollie contact and I've got a couple great ideas up my sleeve. No idea how long this will be yet, I guess we're just going to have to see it play out!


	2. Chapter 2

**Life Can Be Deceiving**

Chapter Two

Stepping into the hallway she turned to lock her door, thankful for the chance to shield her expression. He was just... wow. Since when did people who looked like him use a matchmaking service? And she was certain he hadn't hedged his height either, because even in four inch heels he towered over her. Had she really managed to work food poisoning into her first thirty seconds of conversation with him? She groaned internally. Way to be cool, she thought as she followed fell into step at his side.

"So, do you have a real name or are we sticking to nom de plumes for the evening?"

He paused at the end of the hall. His eye seemed to twitch slightly, as if trying to decipher something. "I'm Oliver," he said sticking his hand out.

"Chloe," she said succinctly, accepting his handshake. She stared up at him. She was supposed to be sizing him up, but she got distracted by his lively eyes and firm grip. Those eyes never swayed from hers, yet it felt like he still managed to see everything around him. She didn't realize the handshake had stopped and now she was just awkwardly holding his hand. He let go of her palm and used it to hold open the door.

The fresh air seemed to revitalize her senses and she smiled, relishing in the scent of fall. Cool breezes and crispy leaves offered an earthy welcome back to mother nature. She opened her eyes to find him observing her oddly.

She blushed a little and laughed. "I can't help it. This time of year reminds me of going back to school. The pens, the notebooks, the backpacks..."

"Oh, you were that girl," he teased. "The one always caught smelling the textbooks."

"Of course not, I quickly upgraded to a computer."

Stepping onto the curb he began to turn right, but quickly redirected his steps left. "How set are you on sushi?"

"I'm not set on anything except for going somewhere new."

"It'd be a shame to waste weather like this in a car. You up for seeing where a walk takes us?"

"As long as it's a slow walk. You're not the one in heels."

"Leisurely pace, got it." They seemed to find a steady stride as their heels clicked the sidewalk, her taking two steps for every one of his. "So, you're a reporter. Where do you work?"

"The Daily Planet."

"Ah, the hub of the city. Ever get anything interesting?"

'Not that I can write about', she thought ruefully. "Occasionally something will fall my way, but right now I'm kind of stuck covering events like City Hall meetings on Tuesday afternoons. What about you?"

"I... run my own business."

"Entrepreneur, eh?"

"Sort of a family business, actually. I inherited it from my parents."

"Inherited as in 'help, I'm stuck here' or as in you chose to take up the mantle?"

He pondered her question for a moment before answering. "I may not have felt like I had much of a choice, but nobody forced me into this life. Sometimes you expect things from your life and sometimes your life expects things from you."

"Quite a heavy statement from someone so young. So what exactly does this business entail?"

"We dabble in a bit of everything. Everything is so contingent on demand and the economy, even the time of year for a product. It's always changing."

She noted how he seemed to veil over the finer points of the operation. Perhaps he was embarrassed to reveal the details. He probably sold used cars or comic book paraphernalia, she thought to herself.

"So what section do you write under?"

"I dabble in a bit of everything. Human interest, business... wherever they need me."

"Gossip columns?"

"Ugh, no thank you. That's one ship I refuse to sail. They can find somebody else to get the skinny on pantyless celebutantes and drunk socialites."

He bit his cheek to keep from laughing. "Those are some pretty harsh words."

"Harsh maybe, but true. Reporting is about getting the truth out there. There are people in this world who can't speak for themselves or are afraid to. I want to be their voice. The voice of the people. There are a lot of truths in this world that are more important than whether Paris Hilton paints her dogs toenails. But enough about the rich and worthless- tell me something about you."

Once again he came to a complete halt and slightly shook his head at her, speechless, but smiling. Seeing a sign just past her shoulder he pointed. "How about this place? You ever been here before?"

"No, never."

"Me neither. Looks like we both get something new tonight. Although, I can't offer a no food poisoning clause here."

"Guess we're gonna have to risk it."

Sliding into a booth in the cozy pizza parlor they began to debate toppings.

"It's not a pizza without mushrooms," he declared.

She wrinkled her nose. "Pepperoni is classic, perfectly complemented by green pepper and onion."

"Mushroom with sausage is far superior," he vehemently argued.

They continued to discuss crust options and the great debate of coke vs. pepsi until the pizza arrived.

"The moment of truth has arrived," Chloe said in a dramatic tone as they each picked up a slice.

"On three," Oliver instructed. "One, two, three."

Sinking their teeth into the gooey mess Chloe let out a moan of approval. "I think I was destined to meet this pizza."

"But I was just a fluke?"

"You were an instrument of God leading me to the world's best pizza," she said wiping her mouth. "But since you brought it up, why are you on Six Degrees of Happiness?"

"Honestly?" She nodded. "I lost a bet. Blind dates have never really been my thing."

"So technically this is your punishment?" she laughed.

"Even when I'm a loser I manage to win," he said smoothly. "What about you? Why'd you start up?"

"I didn't. Some friends of mine set it up for me. I figured if I just tried it once I could get them out of my hair. I think I was actually hoping this would crash and burn so I could tell them 'told you so'."

"So did I make all your dreams come true?"

She chuckled. "It's going better than I would have expected," she admitted.

The waitress set the check down and Oliver handed her his credit card. Returning a moment later she cleared the dishes and asked if there was anything else they needed.

"Everything was wonderful," Chloe thanked her.

"We'd like to thank you for dining with us this evening Mr. Queen, ma'am. Have yourselves a great evening and come again," she said before retreating from the table.

Chloe froze as her mind processed what her ears had just heard. Slowly she lifted her eyes to his and narrowed them slightly. She could tell he knew he'd been caught. "Tell me more about that quaint family business, Mr. Queen."

"I never said anything to mislead you."

"You weren't exactly forthcoming."

"I never had any intention of hiding my identity. When you didn't know who I was right off the bat, I simply didn't jump in dropping my last name for you to trip all over. Not that you would have given your aversion to – how did you put it? Celebutantes and socialites."

"I am not prejudiced against people because of their status as a nobody or a somebody," she said riled up. "But people who get the attention of a somebody for the actions of a nobody causes me concern for the future of America."

"I didn't say you were prejudiced. I just think it would take more than a pocketbook to impress you. Besides, I liked hearing all your uncensored opinions on what's wrong with the youth of today. Like I said, I don't do blind dates. I can't remember the last time I went out with someone who didn't see me coming a mile away."

"Some investigative reporter I am," she muttered to herself.

"Okay, to be fair... after I realized you didn't know who I was... I suggested walking so you wouldn't see my car. How about this- to make up for unintended shadiness I'll give you two free pass questions of your choice- within reason."

"Do I have to think of them right now?"

"No, take your time," he grinned as they left the restaurant, walking in silence.

"I've got one," she decided. "What's the real reason the CEO of Star City's Queen Industries relocated to Metropolis?"

"I was ready to take on some new challenges and I felt like Star City would hamper my ability to do that. Next question."

"What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Seriously, you can ask anything you want and you pick that?" She stared back at him, waiting expectantly for the answer. "Mint Chocolate Chip."

One side of her mouth quirked up before she darted across the street, high heels and all. He quickly caught up to her at the ice cream stand and she presented him with a cone as she licked her own. "Here."

"Thank you. What'd you get?"

"Peanut Butter Swirl."

"Of course," he said aloud. What he was thinking was that she'd just eliminated all possibilities for a good night kiss.

"Hey, mine is ten times better than yours. Want to try?" she offered him the cone.

"Nothing says delicious like anaphylactic shock," he quipped. "I'm allergic to peanuts."

"Huh. Well, you wouldn't be the first date of mine to end up in the hospital."

"And you wouldn't be the first date of mine to put me in the hospital."

They shared a humorous look before cracking up in the middle of the street. They laughed the whole walk back to her place. As they grew nearer to her doorstep he couldn't help but think that this date was ending entirely soon, not to mention unexpectedly.

Her peanut butter smeared lips seemed to be taunting his every thought. Did he have an epi pen on him?

"What was that?" her voice interrupted.

"What was what?" His ears instantly alert.

From a distance they could hear arguing. "Stop it! Leave me alone!"

"Chloe, go inside and call for help."

"She needs help now, I'm not waiting," she began and moved towards the voices.

His arm shot out keeping her in place. "I'll go, but I won't endanger you. Call 911." He gently pushed her inside the apartment doors.

He ran to his car, grateful he'd parked in the dark alley next to her building. Glancing around he tried to make sure he was alone. He didn't have time for the full costume this time. Flipping open his trunk he quickly pulled out his hidden crossbow and pulled a dark green hoodie over his head. Climbing up the ladder to the roof he walked to the opposite side until he found the source of the noise.

Chloe called the police and gave them the address. Hanging up, she stepped outside and listened. She could still hear her. Screw this, there was power in numbers. She jogged along the side of the building, creeping up to the corner. A woman was fighting a tall, thin man tooth and nail for her purse. And they were alone. Oliver was nowhere in sight. She looked around to see if he was just being stealthy, but she couldn't find him.

"Bitch, just give it to me!" He slapped her hard and knocked her to the ground, but she wouldn't let go.

"Screw you," she spat at him.

Oliver pulled back the bow taking aim dead center at the man. He released it, arrow soaring through the air.

"Leave her alone!" Chloe came charging towards the man ready with her pepper spray when he fell backwards to the ground. She saw the bright green arrow sticking out of his chest and suddenly her eyes lifted to the rooftops around her. It was him! The Green Arrow that had been making all the papers recently. She was slightly deflated not to see anyone. What was she expecting? A big light in the sky in the shape of an arrow? She slowly moved towards his immobile body and kicked at his leg. His chest was rising steadily, it must have been a tranquilizer dart. Mystery boy was known for his non-lethal methods of vigilance.

"Are you okay?" she approached the banged up woman.

"I'll be alright." She sounded shook up.

"The police will be here soon. Why didn't you give him your purse? It's not worth your life."

"I know, but the thugs in this city are going to know that I'm not going down without a fight. I'm not going to just hand them what's mine. So they'd better be ready to throw down. And if they do, I'm getting all the DNA I can so I can prosecute. I'm Jenna, by the way."

"I'm Chloe. I'd say nice to meet you, but..."

Oliver;s head was spinning as he left the roof. What was she doing marching in there?! He'd told her to stay away. Had she been a few seconds earlier the arrow could have struck her instead!

As the two women waited for the cruiser to arrive Chloe's mind wandered. Did he really just leave? Of course he had. He'd probably never done something courageous a day in his life. Oh, he had charming and convincing down pat, but it was all a facade. She shook her head in disgust. And to think, she'd really been enjoying herself, wondering if he'd ask her for a second date.

"Chloe!" She turned to see Oliver jogging up the street. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay inside."

"It's a good thing I didn't, seeing as how you apparently ran away in fear."

"I tried to go the other way around the building. I couldn't get through and had to turn back."

"And that took how long? You know what, don't bother. I don't need your excuses."

"What happened to him?" he stared at the unconscious man.

"The Green Arrow."

"He was here? That was lucky, don't you think?"

"What I think? I think that if men like you weren't such spineless rats then maybe there wouldn't be a need for the Green Arrow in the first place. The only reason he exists is because every day men refuse to take up the gauntlet when needed. Jenna here is the real hero. She stood up to that scumbag even when she didn't have anything to fight with except her morals and hopes for this city."

"I didn't run away Chloe. I took a bad route and got turned around! Don't make this into a big thing."

"How clever of you to send me inside so I couldn't see which direction you ran. I remember your bio said you had a strong belief in right and wrong. Guess I just didn't realize which one you would choose. Bravo."

"Chloe--" he sputtered, trying to find a more swaying argument.

"I have to go talk to the police now and then I'm going with Jenna to the hospital. Do us both a favor- lose my number, forget my name and never contact me again. I have no room for guys like you in my life."

She stormed off leaving a dejected Oliver frozen behind her. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. Great. Now she needed more ice cream tonight.

On the positive side, she was right again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Life Can Be Deceiving**

Chapter Three

She had never seen them apart, she realized. She wondered to herself if Stephanie and Gwen were some sort of siamese twins. Maybe they had some invisible cord between them, or couldn't breathe if they were apart.

Their two bubbly faces had just descended upon her workspace like vultures, waiting to feed on the tales of people's love lives.

"So..." Steph prodded excitedly.

"So what?" Chloe pretended to be confused.

"You did not forget. Tell me you did not forget," Gwen panicked. Steph narrowed her eyes trying to read Chloe's expression.

"No, I didn't forget," she sourly admitted. "Although I wish I would have."

"That bad?" The redhead plucked a donut from Chloe's plate.

Chloe sighed. Since last night she'd been trying to figure out how to describe her date with Oliver. As a writer she decided the best way for her to analyze the situation was to see it as a story, an article. 'Dumb Blonde Reporter Completely Taken in by Billionaire's Charm', 'The Guy Who Got the Girl-- Then Got Away!', 'How to Find a Coward in One Easy Step'.

So far this was not as helpful as she'd hoped. Turned out her subconscious could be kind of demeaning. Why did all men seem to have split personalities? Couldn't they just be one entity? Instead she got the guy who thought he had to play every single male archetype. Version A- the great conversationalist who seemed unfazed by her bold statements, Version B- the deceptive yet accomplished business man, and Version C- Is Fraidy Cat a word?

"Let's just call it a draw and leave it at that," Chloe suggested.

"Hell to the no," Steph said indignantly. "We set this up for you and we deserve the details."

"I wouldn't be so fast to demand credit if I were you. You may not want it after you hear what happened. Everything started out fine, he wasn't awkward to talk to and there was even a certain flow to the evening. He seemed nice enough initially, but as it turned out he was actually a deceitful coward. So there. You have your details and my dignity, congratulations."

"I'm sorry, girl." Gwen extended a hand, rubbing her shoulders in apology.

Steph's face stayed pinched, staring down hard at the dejected blonde before her. "You didn't describe him."

"Not that it matters, because a jerk's a jerk, but you were right. He was tall, and he was blonde."

"That's not what I meant. You didn't describe him. You didn't call him ugly... or otherwise. Even now, you're avoiding it."

"I'm not avoiding it. He was... yeah, I'd say he was attractive. I guess."

Baring a toothy smile Steph declared, "You thought he was hot! Oh, I so knew it!"

"That is not what I said," Chloe argued. "He was attractive. Moderately so."

"You like him," Steph accused her. "You don't want to, but you do. You're playing down everything that was good, and I bet you're exaggerating everything that went wrong."

"Trust me, I'm not exaggerating."

"What's his name? I'm going to Google him. See what we can find on your deliciously deceptive man-candy."

And right then, Chloe wanted to say his name. She wanted to announce to the whole world that Oliver Queen was nothing to be revered, but she couldn't do it. "I'm not going to tell you his name."

"Why not?" Gwen prompted.

"Because I'm not going to be at fault for churning the gossip mill around here. This isn't about smearing a man's name after one bad date."

"You're really not going to tell us? After everything we've done for you? He must be incredibly hot..." Gwen's eyes glossed over as she tried to envision him.

"He's... whatever. Look, I'm not going to spread the hate that's all. He's not worth my time and that's all that matters."

Gwen bit her lip thoughtfully. "On a scale of one to ten, how do you rate him?"

This time she grinned along with them, deciding to play on his royal name. "Let's say he's a step or so above the prince."

"Which one?" they asked in unison.

"All of them."

Their rapturous faces were priceless. Perhaps her wordplay would help her get through after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Life Can Be Deceiving**

Chapter Four

Reclining in his leather office chair Oliver threw a handball against the wall. Thump. Thump. Thump. Ever since last night his mind had been plagued with visions of the green eyed goblin.

'_Goblin_', he nodded to himself. '_It certainly fits her- she gobbled me up and spit me out.'_

"Mr. Queen?" a loud, brassy voice interrupted his musings. He caught the ball in his left hand without blinking as he acknowledged the woman filling his doorway.

"Yes, Greta?" he asked the bothersome secretary.

"I need the papers on the fundraiser if I'm going to forward them to Mr. Cruxfeld, and the final plans for the new stadium need to be approved by 3 o'clock. Not to mention Miss Mercer is requesting your presence this evening at 'Riviera Sunsets'," she caustically informed him, her voice growing bitter when mentioning Tess.

His last secretary had left him at the last minute to move home so she could care for an ill parent. He didn't suppose he could blame her, but after hiring a temporary replacement off of paper qualifications alone he was regretting his decision.

"I forwarded the papers to Mr. Cruxfeld myself, the plans for the stadium will not _arrive_ until 3 o'clock and I will speak with Miss Mercer regarding my plans this evening. If that's all?" he stared her down. "I have no further need of you today, you're free to go."

He had to fight an amused smile at her shocked expression and blustering words as she left the office. His eyes drifted down to his phone, quizzically, as he picked up the handle and hit speed dial.

"I assume you got the message?" her smooth voice came through the speaker.

"Having a sudden change of heart, Tess? What happened to the icy CEO who killed her former eco-warrior self?"

"She took a look at your approval ratings. We're in for a hard sell on acquiring the rights to the new digital media. You and I may be able to see what a coup this is, but our board members are a little more old fashioned a lot more shortsighted than us. Maybe you're unwilling to make more than a handful of appearances at board meetings every year, but the least I can do is assure them that we had a lovely dinner together. Your absence can be explained by your belief that furthering Queen Industries here and abroad is only possible through establishing strong ties with the communities, which you do through patronizing their businesses."

His face grew hard at her condescending words. "I may not attend every board meeting and kiss every ass in order to keep the kids happy, but I do run this company Tess- and don't forget it. We'll acquire the media because we have the statistics to back it up and the money to take the risk. Not to mention that we found said media through my 'strong ties in the community' if I recall. You want to doubt my methods, then pick a time when they're not lining your pockets. As for dinner, I'm afraid I'll be busy patronizing a business of my choice."

"Looks like somebody woke up alone again," she sneered. "We both know how much you hate that."

"Move on, Tess, we both know how much you hate that. You've spent the last five years forgetting we ever happened, so don't bother dredging it up now. Although, I'm not sure how partnering Luthorcorp with Queen Industries is supposed to eliminate me from the equation."

"Who says the equation's finished? Be at the board meeting tomorrow, 9AM. Let's see if all the ass you haven't kissed is still willing to bend over and take it." He heard the phone click and the dial tone rang in his ears.

Tess Mercer. Once, the great love of his life. Now, the worst ex of his life. Ever since she took over Luthorcorp negotiations had been more than tense. He'd been surprised, almost alarmed, when Mercy agreed to the joint merger. Sure, he felt it would be a great business move on both parts, but he hadn't seen her coming around. Luckily corporate espionage was one of his strong suits. One well placed mole pointed his magnifying glass in the right direction. It took more than a little digging, but he uncovered that Lex Luthor had implanted some form of a microchip in her brain. He didn't have the nitty-gritty details, but he had no doubt his motives were despicable. Talk about a gross violation of personal space. If she'd been a bitter, untrusting woman before, the one he knew now was flat out ruthless, letting nothing stand in her way. He couldn't lay all the blame at Lex' feet though. Lex wasn't the first man to betray her loyalty.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when her lips were curved in a smile instead of vicious snarl. He couldn't find one; it was too long ago to remember. The dark eyes that had appeared ever since his fateful infidelity; it haunted him.

And then, without warning, another face filtered hers out. A face with a warmth that grabbed hold of him somewhere inside and made him pay attention. He wasn't sure what it was about her. She watched the world from her moral high ground, certain she held the answers to right and wrong. She definitely had standards. He recalled her impassioned speech about 'everyday men taking up the gauntlet'. She judged him based on a few pieces of circumstantial evidence and wrote him off without a second chance. Yet before she knew of his lie of omission, her eyes sparkled with a faint flicker of hope. As if she wanted to believe, but didn't know how. He thought of his actions toward Tess and wondered to himself what man broke Chloe Sullivan.

Annoyance, respect, frustration, captivating... all were words he'd thought to describe her. One word was the most important though: curiosity. He had to know more about her. It might take more of a fight than he was used to, but he liked a challenge.

He pondered what approach would work in opening her up. One wrong move and she'd surely shut him down for good, no more second chances. Candy and flowers? Too stereotypical. She'd assume he put no thought into it and that he had a florist on speed dial. Which he did. If he confronted her at home he'd be deemed a stalker. If he confronted her at work he'd be pressuring her and putting her on the spot. Something simple and honest with a little personal intuition.

And with that thought, Oliver Queen had a plan.

* * *

After work Chloe went for a walk. She'd missed the city when she lived in Smallville. To her fresh air had some grit to it. She paused in front of a bakery, eliciting moans from everyone walking past. Her nose narrowed in on a savory looking tiramisu. Biting her lip she sighed, and backed away from the window. No reason to let the afflictions of today affect the waistline of tomorrow. She wandered into a local pet store and wound up holding several puppies, letting them lick her face affectionately. Leaving the store empty handed she came to the conclusion that she was about three loneliness steps away from crazy. She was officially using cuddly animals as a substitute for human interaction. She glanced at the couple passing by, arm in arm. She wasn't a loser. She was... loser-like. She could bounce back from this. She was a smart, kind person. With a good sense of humor, if she could say so herself. She noticed a billboard sign advertising the latest fitness center and her mind drifted back to her date with Oliver...

**Flashback**

"So let me get this straight," she clarified, leaning back against the booth. "Yoga? Your main fitness regiment consists of yoga?"

"I'm telling you," he dipped another breadstick in marinara before popping it in his mouth. He brushed his hands off & chewed quickly. "I use weights too, but it's all about the flexibility and focus. The better you can control your own body the better your body can control everything else."

"This morning I told my body to get out of bed and make coffee. It listened, so we're in pretty good shape," she quipped.

"All right, doubter. I could have you standing on your head in no time, though."

"How useful," she laughed, "but I'll keep the offer in mind."

**EndFlashback**

She shook her head. Why did she keep thinking back to their conversations? One date, one horrible date in fact, and she was still thinking of things she'd like to talk about with him. She thought about how his eyes would narrow and only one side of his mouth would lift in a smile when he was about to say something he found clever. '_Flexibility and focus_,' she snorted to herself. Her mind veered towards the more physical aspects of yoga as she imagined her instructor without his shirt. '_Yeah, like I'd really be able to focus with my one-on-one training with a guy who looks like he invented yoga!_'

Having circled her block she headed back into her apartment building, determined to get ahold of Lois or Clark finally. She desperately needed some conversation unrelated to her love life or hairspray or any other well intentioned words that came from the sociable twosome at the Planet.


	5. Chapter 5

"How did you let this happen?" Chloe rubbed her temples exhaustedly.

"It was years ago! I barely even remember it. I was quite drunk," Lois admitted. "What kind of person does something like this?"

"Apparently, the kind you were associating with in your girls gone wild days."

"But you can fix it, right?" Lois anxiously played with her hair.

"I used a virus to crash his server and infect his hard drive. It should be one big pile of techno goo by now."

"I can't believe I'm being blackmailed."

"You're lucky. Considering he sent you the link and password it's safe to assume he was making good on his end of the bargain and hasn't shown this to anyone else – yet. But there's no way to know if he has copies anywhere else, Lo. This is the digital age. He could have files saved anywhere."

The brunette visibly deflated even further at her proclamation. "I'm officially going to be the topless Daily Planet reporter. All this time, all this work... for nothing. One stupid Mardi Gras and I lose all credibility as a journalist."

Chloe rubbed her arm reassuringly. "It's going to be okay. Besides, there's no point in crying over spilt milk. The Lois Lane I know would not take this lying down."

Lois sat up, brow furrowed in thought. Grabbing her orange juice she slammed it back, hand wiping her mouth. "I am Lois Lane. I am Lois Lane ace Daily Planet reporter who kicks ass." She stood to her feet abruptly and grabbed her jacket.

"What now?" Chloe asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted the answer.

"I'm going over there. If he wants to throw down, he can do it face to face. And if he's not there... then I'm tossing his place and making sure there aren't any more copies laying around." She smiled with a hard glint in her eyes.

Knowing better than to try to talk her out of this, Chloe offered the only advice she could. "Don't get caught and bring your pepper spray."

After calling the office and requesting to work late that day, Chloe climbed back into bed. Staying up half the night with Lois as her cousin practically pulled her hair out in worry resulted in her missing all beauty sleep. Settling beneath the comforter she hugged her pillow closer, nuzzling her face into the downy surface. Within moments she was floating away on a cloud of blissful dreams. All she knew for sure was she was somewhere between dancing with Fred Astaire and cooking with Julia Child when a familiar ringtone woke her.

"Yeah?" she greeted her friend shortly.

"Chloe?"

"No, this is the unconscious mass formerly known as Chloe."

"Is this a bad time?" Clark asked unsurely.

"No," she sighed and forced herself awake. "What's going on?"

"I was thinking maybe we could do lunch today? Or dinner, if that's better for you."

"I really can't. Lois and I were up all night so I'm not going into work till noon." She looked at her clock in resignation. "I could do brunch."

"Okay. How's ten sound?"

"Make it ten thirty, and bring food. See you soon," she yawned and hung up the phone. She had two more hours of peace until she had to soldier up for the day. What felt like mere moments later, she awoke grumpily to a buzzing alarm clock. Fishing blindly for the snooze left her tangled in her blankets and she fell unceremoniously off her bed. Sitting in a heap she blew the bangs out of her eyes. Looked like today was going to suck no matter what. She had twenty minutes to get ready before a gust of wind blew through here, breakfast in tow.

Freshly showered with still damp hair she was lounging in her pajamas when Clark arrived. There was really no point in getting crumbs all over her work clothes. He wisely handed her the steaming coffee before greeting her. She grinned when she saw the paper bag in the other hand containing bagels and cream cheese. Some mornings just called for heavy carbs, this was one of them.

"Sit," she instructed. "So, what's up with the 911 friendship club? Not that I mind being on the receiving end of a phone call for a change."

"I know I've been preoccupied lately. It's just... it seems like there's never enough time for me to do everything," he expressed his frustration.

"Nobody can do everything Clark, not even a Kryptonian superdude. You may be here to save us all, but you're not God."

"I know, but I can be better. I have to be. The way I keep messing things up... the city can't depend on the man I am right now Chloe."

"So what, you're just going to give up? End the superhero career once and for all?" she shook her head, growing upset.

"No, no. The opposite, in fact." He met her eyes with grim determination. "It's time I go to the fortress and trained with my father."

"Wow. Gotta say... I did not see that one coming."

"It's what has to be done. I've fought my Jor-El in order to maintain my humanity, but in order to save it I have to fully admit my heritage. That means becoming the best Kryptonian I can be. We both know I'm not the only unearthly thing on Earth. In order to defend my family and friends... I have to do this."

Chloe sat slightly agape at his well thought out speech. Clark Kent, habitual brooder and full time fence rider had finally made a firm decision – and he didn't appear to have any doubts about it.

"This is really happening," she set the coffee on the table, unsipped. "When would you leave?"

"Next Wednesday. I want to spend a few days with my mom in Washington before going to the Fortress."

"Do you think you'll be gone that long? Most of Krypton's technology is pretty advanced; you guys can transfer information faster than I can think. You know what those crystals are capable of."

"True, but look how long it took me to develop and hone my abilities growing up. Not to mention I still can't fly. I don't know what this is going to require of me, timewise or anything else."

She stared at her best friend and sadness crept over her features. "I'm so proud of you."

"You don't look proud."

She laughed, blinking back tears. "I am, I really am. It's just hard knowing you're losing your best friend. You could be back next week or it could be ten years until I see you again. Letting go is hard. You shouldn't have been so darn nice growing up," she joked misty-eyed.

"I'll remember that when I return," he smiled and squeezed the hand she was resting on the table.

"You're my best friend Clark, remember that. Don't let Jor-El knock out all the common sense it took me years to get in your head."

"I won't," he promised, "and I'll be sure to tell Lois I'm your favorite."

"Hey, yeah, Lois... what are you going to tell her?"

"That I'm leaving to spend some time with Kara and then see where life takes me."

"You know she's going to miss you."

"I'll miss her too," he said quietly.

"Where are you guys right now?" she inquired curiously, noticing as he fidgeted in his seat.

"You know Lois... she gets under your skin. Like a parasite," he bit into his bagel. "I don't know. It's like we're getting to where there could maybe, just maybe, be something – and then this happens."

Chloe felt his pain. She'd seen the sidelong glances between the two for some time now. But Clark was still figuring out that what he'd felt for Lana had long since passed, and trying to come to grips with even considering sharing his secret with someone by choice instead of necessity. Lois, she knew, had considered the stalwart, steady man a time or two, but she wasn't about to sit around and wait on someone who clearly wasn't able, or willing, to handle her. Instead she flirted shamelessly with the delivery boy and made dates with random interviewees figuring if Mr. Right was out there, it was her responsibility to hunt him down.

She cleared her throat. "Well if this is your last week in town--"

"No parties," he cut her off.

"Me? My idea of a party would be the three of us curled up on a couch somewhere. It's Lois you have to watch out for. She'll find a way to throw you a rave inside a maximum security prison given half the chance."

Sitting in her kitchen, making up exaggerated stories about Lois, it felt like old times. She could hardly believe this would be one of their moments together for the foreseeable future.

"I do have one request of you while I'm gone." He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a familiar collar. "Take care of Shelby for me?"

She snuck carefully by the break room. She'd created a virtual map in her mind, outlining Steph and Gwen's 'hot spots'. The break room was number two on the list, the first being the water cooler – only when it was being changed by the well muscled attendant, of course.

Feeling like she was on a secret mission she tiptoed around the corner and quickly made a break for her desk. Yes! So far she was in the clear. Sinking into the squeaky seat she glanced at the clock. 12:02. She could have been here on time, but she'd had difficulty breaking her hug with Clark. She only had two more days with him. She physically shook herself out of her reverie. It was no wonder Lois had been promoted before her. Lois came in early and stayed late, chasing down leads in her spare time. She herself had taken to rearranging her shift more times than was respectable. She always made up her hours and she always got it approved, but that didn't mean it was looked on kindly.

Was it her fault Lois ran around topless in her youth? Or that, once again, Clark's alien past had come back to haunt him? She sighed. She'd miss him terribly and would never wish him gone, but maybe this time apart would do her career some good. She could resume her days of fighting justice with her pen instead of various alien technology or brightly colored meteor rock.

Getting down to business she force focused herself until she was immersed in the written word, even if was just a generic piece about the new boom in business downtown. She checked her clock and swept the room with her eyes. She'd caught only a glimpse of the infamous duo earlier and assumed they were out following leads on articles. Grateful for the reprieve, she smiled at her simple excitement. Just the ability to visit the bathroom alone made her happy. She really did enjoy the company of her girlfriends, just in smaller doses than they may realize.

After checking her makeup in the mirror she studied her face. She wondered how much you could tell about a person from just their face. Or more accurately, how much one could hide. She doubted anyone would guess the rollercoaster the last few days in her life had been, but then again, few had the training to hide it as well as she did.

Returning to her writing haven once again she paused in surprise. In the four minutes she'd been gone something had arrived for her. Still standing several feet away her head bobbed back and forth across the bullpen scouring for any clue as to who had left it, but she found none. Slowly and suspiciously she crossed the room. The first thing she noticed was the steaming cup of coffee that had been hidden from view at a distance. She couldn't help herself, immediately lifting it to inhale the strong scent. From the smell alone she could tell this wasn't stale office Folger's. She took a small sip. She knew she should know better, given the likelihood of her being poisones, but she couldn't bring herself to care. It was a dark hazelnut roast... with a hint of vanilla, she was sure of it. She searched the mug for distinguishing marks, to no avail.

After appeasing the coffee addict in her with a taste she reached for the package. A small, plain box wrapped only in non-descript brown shipping paper. There were no labels or addresses though, she noted, so it had to have been hand delivered. Ripping the paper open carelessly she lifted the edges of the container. Filled to the brim with neon tissue paper, she had to dig to the very bottom to find two items: a USB stick and a single pack of peanuts. Brow furrowed in confusion she looked around the room. Her curiosity was piqued, but her protective nature had kicked back in. She spied Gwen's desk a few feet over. If this USB stick contained a virus, she figured it would do a lot less damage to the world if a gossip columnist's computer crashed instead of hers. Luckily, she knew Gwen's password and didn't have to bother hacking in.

Her eyes flitted to the door for any sign of her vivacious friend as she plugged the drive in. She briefly wondered how many hours a day she spent trying not to feel guilty and not to get caught. The computer pinged as it recognized the files as MPEG4's, a video file. Nerves filled her and she ran quickly to her desk to grab earplugs, just in case. With her luck it'd be somebody trying to reveal Clark to the world. Or maybe Lois' blackmailer had more than photos on her; she bit her lip in anticipation.

"Hello again... what was your name?" a jovial voice greeted her ears as a familiar face graced the screen. She was shocked. Oliver Queen was sending her a video message? "Well, I mostly did as you said. I forgot your name and I lost your phone number, but it was still impossible not to contact you again. I know we got off to a bad start and I know you think you have me pegged as the bad guy, but I'm not. I'm willing to prove that to you, but in order to do so you've got to give me the time of day. So here's what I suggest: have dinner with me, again. Next Wednesday. I'll be at the pizzeria at seven if you decide that not everything in life can be taken at face value. I've even armed you with my own version of crucifixes and garlic: peanuts, to be used at your discretion. And with that, Chloe Sullivan, I return you to your originally scheduled day. Oops, guess I didn't forget your name after all."

The screen went black and the shock she initially felt had spread throughout her entire body.

"Was that Oliver Queen I just saw?" Chloe's head snapped around to see Gwen hovering over her shoulder.

"What? No..." Chloe quickly removed the drive and her headphones.

"Yes, it was," Gwen insisted, eyeing her fellow reporter suspiciously. "What are you doing at my desk? Are you trying to scoop me?"

"No, nothing like that. I wouldn't do that to you. I was having problems viewing a file on my computer and I wanted to see if it was a glitch in my computer or a corrupted file. Guess I need to make a call to tech support."

"Why were you watching a video of Oliver Queen?" she demanded suspiciously. "With headphones, no less."

"Umm..." She should really be better at lying, given her history. "I've been trying to contact him about a story. A non-gossip, strictly corporate-executive stuff type story. He finally took the time to get back to me."

"You got an exclusive one on one with Oliver Queen?" she said excitedly. "Way to rock it, girl!"

"It's not really even an interview, he was helping me with some source content."

"Source content?" Gwen said skeptically.

"Yeah, detailed background on Queen Industries, and how adding a second base here in Metropolis will expand the job market. Things like that."

"If you say so. I'll believe it when I read it," she motioned Chloe away from her chair.

Chloe tried to smile convincingly. "I should get back to work on that, then..."

Scurrying like a church mouse back to her own computer she cursed her stupid excuses. She had little doubt Gwen would be paying a little closer attention to her than she would like. The last thing she needed was her to uncover any of the skeletons she'd so carefully buried, burned or disentegrated.

And to top it all off, sans peanuts of course, she now had some serious thinking to do about Oliver Queen.


	6. Chapter 6

_Saturday – 3 days since date_

There was a noise behind him. A small gust of wind had almost masked the sound, but he was certain he'd heard footsteps. He spun on his heel, whipping around his bow and immediately taking aim at the shadows, eyes narrowed.

"You have good instincts," a voice acknowledged him from behind the shroud of darkness.

"That's a surprising assessment – considering you're the one in my crosshairs," a mechanical voice retorted edgily.

"That's why it's accurate," the man explained easily.

The archer took a couple long, slow strides across the rooftop. "I take it you're the shadow man who has been roaming the streets?"

"Don't come any closer if you want to hear more."

Displeased, but intrigued, the Green Arrow came to a still, but attack ready stance, bow still on target.

"I've been following you," Clark revealed, his identity still hidden in the night. "On paper, anyway. Some people are calling you a villain, others a vigilante."

"Doesn't really matter what they call me. It matters what I do," the gravelly voice sounded unimpressed.

"That's why I did my homework before approaching you. Or rather, I had a friend help with my homework. You've been returning stolen items, stopping muggings, some reports say you're responsible for making sure incriminating evidence finds its way to the police. You're helping people."

"You're not exactly a mobster yourself. Metropolis new mystery hero is rumored to be the source behind both the graffiti cleanup at the inner city park and the apprehending of a six-man armed robbery team."

"Maybe we have more in common than we think."

"I don't know about that. I'm more of a 'flaunt it if you got it' type guy. Somehow you strike me as a 'pretend it doesn't exist' type guy."

"We execute it differently, but we both protect our identities. We have to, in order to watch over Metropolis."

"What do you want?" the costume clad hero cut to the chase.

"I need to know if you'll be sticking around."

"You want to work out a schedule? We can alternate weekends, or hey, maybe we can each claim half the city. Did you want north or south?" he asked sarcastically.

"Neither," Clark said stoically. "I have to go away for a while. I want to know I'm leaving the city in good hands."

"It's not your city, shadow boy. You're not the only one who cares what happens here."

Clark grew frustrated with his deflective antics. "I don't know who you are, but this is my home. I have a responsibility to do everything in my power to keep it safe."

"Right. That's why you're leaving," he mocked.

"Just be straight with me. Can the city rely on you in my absence?"

"I don't have a timeline figured out. For now, I'll be around. I don't know what tomorrow will bring."

Clark nodded sagely, almost forgetting the other man couldn't see him. "I guess I can respect that. This isn't an easy job to handle alone, though."

"Seems we've both scraped by until now."

"Perhaps, but for me that scraping wasn't entirely on my shoulders. Do you have... is there anyone in your life that knows about this?"

"Little early to go revealing alliances, isn't it? We don't even have a secret handshake."

"I have a good sense about people. You don't have to put all your cards on the table, but if you need a hand... I know someone. Someone you could trust. Whether they'd be willing to help you without knowing your identity, I don't know."

"This little friend of yours have a name?"

"Not until you do."

"Guess we'll have to call it a draw."

"You can contact this address when you realize you can't do it alone."

"What address?"

The air shifted around him again and Oliver knew he was gone. Looking down he found a scrap of paper tucked inside his gloved hand. Holding it up in the light, he peered at it.

He'd have to see what he could dig up on this account.

_Earlier that Day_

"Clark, you have to tell her," Chloe sighed, cutting peppers for their stir-fry. She handed him an onion. He could dice it and store it in a tupperware container before the fumes could hit the air.

"And I will. I'm just... trying to find the right time. The right words." He took the knife from her hand, a blur of motion zigzagged across her counter.

"You're not delivering an address to the nation here, you just have to tell Lois you're leaving."

"Sounds easier than it is," he shook his head morosely, letting her take over the meal preparation once again.

"Hey, I didn't mean it that way. It's never easy to say goodbye to someone you care about. But if you don't tell her soon she's going to find out on her own and we all know that won't be pretty. She deserves to hear it from you."

"We're meeting for a Die Hard marathon tonight – her choice, not mine. I'll tell her then."

"I'm holding you to that - and don't even think about backing out. The second she gets home I'm asking her about it – and she'd better know what I'm talking about," she shook her knife at him.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" she raised an eyebrow.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" The question was sudden but the curious look in his eye made her think this train of thought had plagued him before.

She popped a piece of broccoli in her mouth. "The usual. Get into more trouble than I'm worth. Go to the Planet in hopes of landing a story to showcase real journalism, but more likely I'll end up with my teeth kicked out wondering why I chose this profession when I was four and why it never occurred to me to change my mind," she prattled on.

Clark smiled sympathetically. "You're going to be fine, Chloe. One of these days your editor will see what he's got in you. But that actually wasn't what I was talking about. What about everything you do for me? That's got to leave a void in your schedule."

She laughed, almost indulgently, rolling her eyes. "Clark, I'm not going to up and replace you. There are only so many aliens to go around."

"Maybe you should."

"Should what? Replace you? Sure, I'll just head down to Clarks-R-Us and pick me up a doppelganger."

"Just because I won't be here doesn't mean anyone else won't be. There's still going to be trouble and especially if any of it's Kryptonian... You're one of the few people to even know about their existence."

She paused, surprise evident from her open mouth. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're advocating me to stay on the hero trail. This from the guy who's spent the last few years trying to convince me I'd be safer if I stayed home & knitted."

"I never said knit, I said crochet," he countered with a deadpan expression before softening into a smile. "I just want you to be safe." He set the table with plates and silverware.

"I know you do," she accepted. She dished up their plates and they settled in at the kitchen table.

"But I also know you can do things other people can't. You've helped me save this city more times than I can count. Just because I'm going away doesn't mean the city should be alone."

"Without you around I may not have the inside scoop, but I'm not going to give up on this fight."

"Which brings me back to my original point. Maybe you should think about joining forces with someone," he suggested, lifting fork to mouth.

She took a sip of water. "Should I search under H for hero or J for justice in the yellow pages?"

"I actually had someone in mind already."

Her eyes met his curiously. "Holding out on me, huh? Who is this second-Becky anyway?"

"Who's Becky?"

"Never mind," she waved him off.

"The Green Arrow," he proposed.

She dropped her fork & wiped her mouth. "Wait a... you know who the Green Arrow is? Since when?"

"I don't know who he is. But everything we've found on this guy leads back to something good. I can't say I'd see eye to eye with the guy, but we need someone here, roaming these streets. I think he's doing things for good reasons."

"So if you don't even know who he is, how are you expecting to hold a meet and greet with this guy?" Clark shrugged, not so innocently. "Ah, yes. Playing the mysterious hero card. Are you sure it's such a good idea to get involved with him?"

"You yourself were the first one to dig deeper into his escapades here. You connected the dots that maybe there was more to this guy than a bad costume."

"Well, yeah, I do think that. I hope I'm right about him, but don't you think it's a little dangerous? He clearly doesn't want people to know who he is either, and it's a risky move to reveal who you are and what I've done in the past."

"So we play it on the safe side," he offered. "Can you think of any ways for your guys to contact each other anonymously at first?"

She flitted her eyes back and forth, searching for an option. "I could give you a secure email address." She walked across the room, setting her laptop on the coffee table to create a new email account. Sinking into the sofa her fingers flew over the keyboard. "But just being realistic here, I doubt he's going to be thrilled at the idea of de-hooding and I don't like the idea of not knowing who or how I'm helping. It's too easy to be manipulated."

He sat beside her on the plush cushion, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're nervous about this. I wouldn't do this if I thought I was putting you in danger. Just... let's just take it a step at a time. We'll be careful and thorough."

"I'm still not sure this is necessary," she argued lightly.

"The city isn't the only thing that needs protecting," he looked down at her. "You're still going to be involved with dangerous people and stories. You need a partner. Someone you help in supplying a dose of justice in the world. Someone who can protect you when things don't go according to plan."

"So basically you're connecting me with this guy as a way to play big brother," she summarized.

"That's just one angle," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes. "We don't even know if he'll accept our offer of help. One step at a time."


	7. Chapter 7

"You better hurry up Sullivan," Steph advised.

Chloe had barely sat down when the redhead approached, her eyes wide and dramatic.

"Hurry up with what? I'm not late, in fact I'm early today," Chloe rebutted.

"Save it for the editor. I don't know what crawled up his hole and died, but the man is on the warpath this morning." Steph's curls bounced as she shook her head.

Gwen approached the twosome, leaning in conspiratorially. "Less of an 'up and died' and more of a 'packed and left', the way I hear it. Rumor is his wife met him at the door while the movers were putting her things in a van."

Steph gasped in scandalous delight. "No. Way. Don't get me wrong, I'd leave him too, but that's so juicy."

Chloe bared a small smile for their drama, but two things she knew for sure – one, Gwen's gossip was never wrong; and two, their elder scribe had been handling his fair share of late hours.

"Back to basics though. He wants you in his office ASAP, Chloe," Steph remembered.

"Here's hoping he's not looking for a new bride just yet," Gwen crossed her fingers jokingly as Chloe maneuvered the bullpen to get to her advisor's corner office.

Knocking hesitantly on the wooden door she caught herself staring at the brass nameplate and smiling. Someday it would be her own moniker engraved up there, she promised.

"That'd better be Sullivan," a voice barked out from behind the barrier. She shook herself out of her reverie. "And you'd better quit dilly-dallying!"

She squeaked the door open and let herself in.

"It's me, sorry," she apologized, taking the seat across from him.

"Sometimes I wonder what happened to you," he wondered aloud.

"I don't know what you mean." Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"You used to have drive! And spunk."

"I have drive," she declared.

"You're late almost as often as you're on time," he chastised her.

"That's... not untrue," she admitted. "But I always stay late and make it up. I'll do the stories no one else wants, too."

"See? That's what I mean. No drive! Everyone else around here, they get the math. They know what stories will get them ahead. They get plum pickings and you keep on writing twice the articles for half the fame."

"I"m just working with what I'm given," she told him. "I'd love a chance to tackle a bigger article. You know I'd do you proud."

He sighed and studied her, as if puzzled by something. "The idea behind tackling something isn't that someone hands it to you. If you want a story, go out and get it."

"I don't expect to be handed anything," her eyes flashed in offense. "I've proved my worth here on more than one occasion."

"Which is exactly why I hired you," he gestured widely with his hands. "But you can't swim a triathlon in the kiddie pool. You want a headline, you find it. Look, you had a certain spark when I brought you in here, but somewhere along the way you turned into just another minnow swimming with the pack. If you want to survive off basement obituaries for the rest of your life, that's your choice. Otherwise, maybe take a note from your cousin Lane and get your hands dirty for a change."

She opened her mouth in outrage when he waved her towards the door.

"You're dismissed Sullivan." His eyes had already dropped back to his desk, ignoring the ire of his reporter.

The door closed behind her with a snap.

_'A minnow?'_ she thought incredulously. '_I am not a minnow! I am, I am... I'm not a fish, dammit! I'm a good reporter and I don't need to be Lois to pull it off!'_ She sighed. _'Maybe with Clark leaving for his training I can remind my boss of that fact.' _

Her eyes were glazed over as she tried to hide her fury. Stalking back towards her desk she suddenly bumped into someone, papers floating to the ground.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I wasn't even looking," she babbled as she reached for the flying leaflets. Upon closer inspection, the pieces weren't just paper. They were photographs.

"Hey, Chloe. Don't worry about it. You're always distracted."

The voice made her head shoot up in recognition. "Jimmy?"

"Yeah." His boyish smile flashed back at her. "You're still holding some of my photos." He motioned the papers viced in her hand.

"Right, of course," she said flustered, returning them to their owner. They stood up from their crouched positions. "What are you doing here? I thought you were..."

"In Florida? Turns out permanent spring break isn't all it's cracked up to be," he made a face. "That wasn't really the kind of reporting I was wanting."

Her eyes sparkled teasingly. "Sounds like any man's dream job," she joked.

"You'd think, but it gets old really fast. And hot. And they have alligators, too." He pinched his mouth closed.

She laughed a little, if partially to ease her nerves. His return had definitely taken her off guard, and she couldn't deny the southern sun had done him some good. "Welcome back then, Jimmy."

"Thanks. It's good to be back. The regular hustle and bustle."

She stepped to his side. "I'll see you around then, I assume." She started to walk past him when he spoke up.

"Yeah. Hey, Chloe?"

"Yeah?" she turned her head around. His eyes seemed conflicted.

"Think sometime you'd want to catch a movie or something?" the hopeful tone of his voice wasn't lost on her. His hands fidgeted with his messenger bag, waiting for her response.

She paused and bit her lip. "I don't know..." she hedged uncertainly.

"Or we could do something else," he quickly interjected. "Dinner or coffee...?"

She looked straight at him. "I just don't know."

He looked a little downcast at her hesitance. "It is a lot to process so fast."

"I mean, maybe... I think we should just take some time. I have some changes going on in my life and you need to settle in again," she ticked off the reasons.

"Yeah, sure. We'll just wait a little and see where life takes us," Jimmy nodded.

"Exactly." She looked relieved.

"I'll see you soon then, Chloe," he watched her.

"You too Jimmy."

His eyes followed her till she found her desk again. He had a feeling he'd be spending a lot of time in this bullpen.


	8. Chapter 8

"How'd it go?"

Oliver looked up from the beer he was nursing to see a diabolical grin.

"Tell me it was a he-she," AC begged mercilessly, laughing as he pulled up a seat at the bar.

"No, she was all _she_," he corrected the man. "Might even see her again."

"Really? A two-rounder? You're going soft, Queen. I give you five years, tops, before you've got yourself a minivan."

Oliver snorted in derision. He didn't do minivans. "Now that's a bet I know I can win."

"You also thought you could tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi," AC reminded him.

"Yeah, and that's why I shouldn't do taste bets when I'm drunk."

"So what's this he-she look like?"

"She's this..." he closed his mouth, tongue pressing behind his teeth as he searched for the right words.

"...this?" AC prompted him on.

"I don't know man..." his eyes glazed over.

"Hoo hoo!" AC clapped him on the back. "Welcome back to the game."

"I haven't been out of the game," Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Not a game, the game. Love, man. It's what it's about."

"Love. Right." Oliver said in a monotone.

AC fixed him with a look. "Please. Say whatever you want, but the last time you couldn't describe a girl she turned out to be that debutante Tess."

Oliver swilled the last of his beer. He was going to need it if he had to hear her name.

"Drink your club soda," he replied unamused.

He couldn't deal with another Tess. That socialite daddy's girl had had her claws in him for far too long before he saw the error of her ways. He didn't exactly have a pedestal to judge from given his history, but she had issues that could make therapists retire.

Smart as a whip, but used her intelligence only for shallow purposes. Vibrant smile but the coldest heart he'd ever endured.

Her manipulative, sociopathic ways had been the last straw.

_- - - Flashback - - -_

That felt so good. She was warm and eager, hands roaming everywhere. It had been so long. Too long.

He backed them into the couch. The lamp on his office desk provided a dim glow to light their path. Clothing insistently shoved aside and to the floor, she braced herself against him.

A few breathtaking minutes later, she dropped her head to the crook of his shoulder. He rested shortly before his eyes fluttered open.

"Tess..." the name croaked from his lips.

He felt dirty, raw, exposed. The powerful readhead standing in his office showed little emotion at him being caught in flagrante with the cute hostess.

"You can go, Alicia," Tess Mercer instructed the girl.

Drawing herself away from his body heat, the seemingly so innocent girl gave him a wink. "Not bad," she drawled. "Not bad at all." He grabbed for a pillow to cover himself. Sliding her slinky dress on quickly, she hooked her heels over her fingers and vacated the office.

"What?" Oliver whispered, confused and horrified. "What did you do Tess?"

"When the cat's away, the mice will play," she shrugged, before the hard glint of her smile appeared. "I've grown up all my life around men like you. You think my daddy didn't do the same? Mercer women have to know how to pick themselves up by the bootstraps."

"You set this up? What kind of sick, twisted-"

She interrupted. "You want to get your rocks off, fine. Alicia will be available whenever you need her. If your tastes change, I'm sure we can find someone else to accommodate that." She stepped closer to him, only a few feet from the sofa now. "I'm not going to let some woman show up in five years with a blonde headed child in tow, ruining everything we've worked so hard for just because you can't put a glove on it!"

He got to his feet, almost knocking her over in the process. The anger in his eyes smoldered as he reached for his pants. He turned to her, bile rising in his throat.

"We're done here."

"I just wanted to be clear. Here's Alicia's number." She held out a card to him.

He grabbed it, crumpling it in his fist. "I said we're done. You and me, over."

"You can't be serious. All this over a little sex issue?"

"Get out," he snarled.

She walked slowly to the door, confidence still marking every step. She turned to him, eyes almost condescending.

"I'm going to bed early tonight. Try not to wake me when you come in," she said before slipping out the doorway.

Almost choking on his misery, he lashed out, grabbing a chair and throwing it against the wall. She was wrong. This was it.

This time they were done.


End file.
